074: Video Game
by Bitch Slap Love
Summary: During a queer version of strippoker the boys find themselves in an odd position. KyleStan?


Disclaimer: Do not own them.

Title: Number Seventy-Four: Are You Challenging Me?

Summary: During a queer version of strip-poker the boys find themselves in an odd position. KyleStan?

Warnings: Yaoi Cussing PWP (Very)OOC

Couple: KyleStan?

Written By: Kyle/Kenny/Wendy/Token by Shino; Stan by Rah

Inspired By: Uuugh, me and Rah are RPing

Comments:ded: Is 'thrusted' a word?

Note: Part of a 100 Theme Challenge I'm doing

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Number Seventy-Four: Are You Challenging Me?

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"DIE BITCH DIE!" A teenage boy screeched at a TV, pounding on his controller mercilessly.

"ERAGH!" Another teen yelled before throwing his controller at said-TV. Thankfully, it merely bounced off and clattered to the floor. "Bastard! I'll beat yew someday!"

"You lose again, Kyle! Off with the pants!" Stan exclaimed triumphantly, throwing down the controller. He grinned evilly and waited for Kyle to remove his jeans.

Kyle glared hotly before standing, without a hint of a blush mind you, and proceeded to strip off his tight blue jeans. He kicked them into another corner of Stan's living room. The brunette's parents and sister were gone away on a trip and the two friends had free reign. "Happy now, you little shit-faced mother fucker." He tilted his hips to one side and placed his hands on his green boxer-clad waist. So far, during their weird version of strip-poker, he had lost every game but one and was down to his matching hat and boxers, where-as Stan only lost his shirt. "Bastard." Kyle muttered, plopping back down cross legged and grabbed his controller. "NEXT ROUND!" He glared at Stan briefly again before looking down at his lap. "Dude." Kyle idly poked his inner thigh. "I have a bruise. Where did that come from?"

Stan laughed and picked his controller back up. "Ready to get your ass kicked again at Mortal Kombat?" He grinned and sat down, preparing to pick the same character again.

"NEIN!" Kyle yelled, hitting Stan on the arm. "Pick someone else." He grumbled, a pout stealing over his features. "Pick someone weak. It would suit you perfectly." Choosing his own character he waited for the other, going back to poking the magically appearing bruise.

Stan grumbled and chose that one dude with the black pants. "Does not. And I'll still kick your ass with this person as easily as I did with that one chick." He pressed start and waited for Kyle's first move.

Hesitating, Kyle watched both guys on the screen move back in forth. "Hey. . . . Does it look like they're pelvic thrusting to you too?" He titled his head in Stan's direction.

Stan stopped and actually looked at the two guys. "Yeah. It does. Doesn't matter, I'll still pwn you with my incredible pelvic thrusting dude, dude!" As he spoke, Stan waved his arms around, hoping to reinforce his point.

Kyle quirked a brow said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I bet I can do better pelvic thrusts then you."

"Nuh-uh." Stan retorted, standing up. "I can totally own you at pelvic thrusts any day!" Stan tugged on Kyle's arm, trying to get him to stand up. "You're about to get owned!"

"Pft." Kyle dropped his controller and stood, hands going back to his hips. "As if you could. Everyone knows Jews are better thrusters." He waved a dismissive hand at the teen. "And when I win you will have to resign your pants over to me. Got it?"

Stan cocked an eyebrow. "Then you have to give me your. . . . hat." He smiled triumphantly. "Prepare for your pelvic thrusting DOOM!" Stan yelled, slamming his hands on his hips.

Kyle smiled back and waited for a sign that meant that the 'game' had begun.

Stan stood there also, waiting for Kyle to start.

"Uh, sooo. Who goes first?" Kyle asked curiously when nothing happened.

"Um. Why don't we start on . . . three?" Stan asked, slightly confused.

Kyle bit his bottom lip, the stupidity of it all finally hitting him. "Okay. One. . . THREE!"

Stan jumped, slipped and fell, while Kyle pelvic thrusted away. "Dude. That's not cool. Learn to fucking count, Jewtard."

Kyle laughed and, after finishing another stunning thrust, dropped down to his knees. Smirking, Kyle leaned forward onto his hands, and purred huskily in Stan's ear. "Remove your pants."

Stan blushed furiously and fumbled to remove his pants, breathing deeply through his mouth, focusing on the button.

Kyle chuckled throatily. "Need help?" Shifting so he could balance himself he kept his mouth close to Stan's neck and reached down, brushing his fingers against the backs of Stan's hands.

Stan closed his eyes for a moment and quickly decided that it would be better if he breathed through his nose, since that took more concentration. "N-no, I'm f-fine." He stuttered, still focused on that DAMN button.

Chuckling, Kyle leaned forward, barely brushing his lips against Stan's throat and fell back. "You're such a fag, dude."

Stan's eyes snapped open and he scowled. "Says the dude who is straddling me."

Kyle snorted. "You know you like it." Sticking out his tongue he continued. "Seriously, dude. What's your problem? I'm just fucking with you."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Whatever dude. Can you kindly get the fuck off me?" He sat up and glared at the redhead. "Asshole, my feet are numb and they're probably gonna have to amputate them soon because of your fatass!"

"Heh, you're blushing." Kyle pointed out teasingly and moved so he was back on his knees. Noting the distance, or lack there-of, between them, Kyle hit his forehead against the other. "Man, chill and strip!"

Pushing back with his own force, Stan scowled. "I would, but you're trying to molest me at the moment so I can't quite get them off, dumbass."

"Fine," Kyle grinned widely. "I'll do it for you." He looked down, grabbed Stan's hand's and moved them out of the way before, very calmly, pushing the button from it's place and, again calmly, unzipped them. "There! Done!" With a flourish he yanked them down and threw himself back, happily holding up his prize. "I PWN. . . Yew."

"I pwned you first. I got yours off before you got mine off." Stan smiled weakly and slid his feet towards himself, sitting Indian style. "Therefore, I totally own your Jewish ass."

Kyle raised a hand, dropping the inside-out jeans to the side. "Yes, but, I got _yours_ off in a more MANly way." Then, with a rather idiotic grin, Kyle threw himself back forward and landed with his upper half in Stan's lap. "And, Stanly, dear, I would own your ass before you owned mine."

"Liar!" Stan shouted through his blush. "I would sooo own your ass before you would be able to even think of owning mine!"

"Mmm, is that right?" Kyle smirked up at the teen before dropping a little further into his lap and slid his hands around to Stan's back, a few fingers disappearing under a blue elastic waistline. "Want to prove it?"

Stan hissed slightly through his teeth. "Sure. I'll totally own you Girly-Jew." He grinned half-heartedly, hoping to look defiant. "Bring it on bitch."

Kyle chuckled. "You say all that unoriginal jargon but do nothing?" Wiggling further down, his fingers slid further under silky fabric and his lips brushed Stan's navel. "You've proven nothing." Chuckling again, Kyle's tongue darted out, and he, not only wet his lips, but he also brushed it against the others tense stomach. "And I've only proven I'm the bigger fag here."

Stan bit down on his lip and ground his back teeth slightly. "You just insulted yourself you fucking idiot." He frowned and attempted an insult. "Faggot Jew."

"I know," Kyle purred, rubbing his nose against Stan's stomach. "You know you are too, so shut up and prove to me how you would, by some freak error, PWN my ass? Cause," Kyle flexed his fingers and licked at where his nose had previously been. "I already seem to own yours."

"What?" Stan asked, distractedly. "What the hell are you talking about, dude?" He blinked slowly. "You're confusing me."

Sighing, Kyle replied. "That's fine. You're cute when you're confused." Kyle titled his head back and looked at Stan's flushed face properly. "The again. . . . You're always cute." Kyle suddenly retraced his hands and pushed the teen onto his back and straddled his hips triumphantly. "I think I win, m'dear."

"Whatever." Stan mumbled, looking down towards the aforementioned bruise. Well, not quite at the bruise per se, but near there. "Thanks." He muttered in reply to the comments before. He stopped and took a deep breath. "Can you get off of me? My boxers are starting to ride up."

Kyle looked down and smirked. "But, I think someone wants to say hello." He dropped his hands and pressed against Stan's hips. "You sure you want me off? Someone else doesn't,"

Stan groaned at the friction. ". . ." He breathed deeply. "What a way to put it. How Shakespearian you are."

"Then, would you prefer I say. 'To blow or not to blow. That is the question'?" Kyle smiled down at Stan cockily. "Then again, I'm sure you would."

"Queer." Stan snapped, pushing Kyle lightly on the chest. "Stop being such a damn smartass. Don't rub it in my face that I never paid attention in English." He scowled playfully.

Licking his lips Kyle leaned down and kissed Stan's stomach, chin brushing against Stan. "Would you like a lesson on Romeo and Tybalt?"

Stan ground his teeth. "I thought it was :ah: Romeo and Juliet. Didn't Tybalt die?" He groaned softly as Kyle continued his actions.

"Oh, no. they got their sources wrong." Kyle propped up on his elbows briefly. "You see. Ever-since a crazy one-night-stand, Tybalt became dead set on owning Romeo. In two senses mind you." He leaned back down and watched, amused, as the muscles in the teen's abdomen flexed when he pressed against him in different places. "But when Tybalt found out that Romeo was getting down with his cousin in his POOL of all places, he had a crazy fantasy that involved that pool, he got pissed and decided that if he could have Romeo, no one could." He lightly kissed Stan's stomach again. "Then, Romeo killed him. The end."

Stan raised his hand and bit down on his thumb lightly. "What a way to end a relationship. Must've been pissed with his cousin too. That slut." He thought for a moment. "Wasn't she already married or something?"

"Do you bite your thumb at me, sir?" Shaking his head, making loose hair run against Stan's bare skin, he replied. "Naw, she wasn't."

"No, but I do bite my thumb, sir." Stan replied hazily, shaking a bit from the hair that was tickling him softly. "Oh. So then Romeo's the slut, leading two people on like that. Stupid playboy."

Kyle looked up at the other curiously. "Sounds like someone I know." Sighing he looked away. "So, on a completely unrelated topic, how's Wendy?"

Stan started coughing. "Wh-what?" He took a deep breath. "I wouldn't know, she dumped me. Again. About a week ago. For Token. Again." Stan laid his head back. "God I hate him." His hand traveled down towards Kyle's hat and he gently pushed at it.

Kyle snorted and moved back, away from the hand. "My hat stays on until I get laid." He said quietly and cleared his throat in a dismissive manner, "You hate him because he keeps stealing your girlfiend?"

Stan blinked and lifted his head again. "What? You mean 'girlfriend' right?" He furrowed his eyebrows and jerked his hand a bit, Kyle's hat flying off. Actually, it just tumbled off in a disheartened fashion. "Oops, sorry dude."

Kyle looked at the hat now laying crumpled on the floor. "Sooo, I'm getting laid? And no, I mean 'girlFIEND'."

Stan blushed furiously. "I guess so. What's wrong with Wendy, dude? It's like you think she's a witch or something." He blinked and waited for Kyle to stop thinking so hard and answer him.

"Ganna get laid tonight, ganna take the highway, ain't no better way, better way, yeah, yeah. Uhrk. I mean. Poor Kenny, he's not going to be happy when he learns I let you take off my hat when I wouldn't let him." Kyle grinned up at Stan. "You know, witch rhymes with bitch."

"She's not a bitch dude. Poor Kenny. Hope he doesn't die again." Stan smiled a bit. "I'm sure he'll get over it."

Kyle looked at the floor next to Stan blankly. "I bet Cartman would let Kenny take off HIS hat. . . Then again, he'd let ANYone take off his hat." Kyle looked up to see the look of disgust on Stan's face. "Ugh, sorry man. Erm, and yesh, she is. She fucks everything that moves but won't even look at me. What up with that." Kyle moved further onto Stan, "I mean, I'm hot right? Not that I want her, fucking bitch, I just want people to notice me. But alas," Kyle dropped his head down over-dramatically. "I'm just the skinny Jewish boy that wears girl pants."

". . . . That's nasty man. I mean, we ALL know that he takes after his mom but we don't talk about it." He sighed, and then, after a moment, "I notice you. And, OF COURSE, you're the skinny Jewish boy who wears girl pants. It makes you unique, along with your hat." He searched for Kyle's hat, and located it. "Here." Stan mocked putting Kyle's hat back on him. "Down boy, down."

Kyle pouted and leaned up, licking at the underside of Stan's chin. "But you're my 'super best friend' you HAVE to notice me." He lightly passed his lips over one of Stan's nipples. "I want some GIRLS to notice me. Having random guys pinch my ass gets old after a while. Especially since they all think I'll bottom for them." Snorting he continued. "As if."

"I could ignore you for a change of scenery. WAIT, have you done this before?" Stan asked jealously. "When was this? Who wa- never mind, I don't wanna know."

"You pinch my ass?" Kyle furrowed his brows and frowned. "When was that? Hrm. . Oh, uh." He looked back up, a little disappointed that a hand was still positioned to put his hat back on. "This? Yes. More? Well, yes. But all the way? Naw. Like I said. I say 'nein' to bottoming and I denied Kenny's proposal." Kyle brushed his fingers along Stan's sides. "Seeeee, loyallll."

Stan blushed. "It was just a dare!" He replied frantically, removing his hand, with the hat, from over Kyle's head, and waved his hands frantically. "What about Bebe? She used to want to go out with you." He groaned at Kyle's:ahem:, ministrations.

Kyle groaned, again, dramatically, and pulled his hands away to brush Stan's face. "I was, what, EIGHT? For Christ's-sake. " He paused and grinned. "That was a few months after you molested me. Ah, I remember that, I had no idea what the fuck you were doing with your hands down my pants but, I went along with it. I mean, we're 'super best friends' I guess if you wanna put your hands down my pants you can do it at free will." Licking his lips his grin widened. "I guess the same goes for me?"

"Yep." Stan muttered, raising both eyebrows. "Guess so. So, what? I made you gay or something?"

"Hmm, I think you did. Cause about a week after THAT incident," Kyle wiggled his eyebrows. "Rebecca put HER hands down my jeans and I just wasn't the same. Then again. . ." A far-away look stole Kyle's features. "You were all rough and demanding with your hormones an' all where-as she just needed someone willing."

Stan tried to sit up. "Rebecca did WHAT?" He gave up and fell back. "I knew she was a slut, but I didn't know that she was like that at eight." Stan sighed. "Oh, sorry about that man. I didn't mean to scar you at eight."

Purring, Kyle moved forward so his face hovered over Stan's. "Trust me, I didn't." He pressed his hips against Stan's happily.

"Uhn!" Stan cried out, adding his own pressure into the mix. "God, are you ever sad about anything man? I've even seen you take out the trash happily."

"Man, that's cause it STANK, I was happy to have it out of my room." Kyle lightly kissed the corner of Stan's mouth teasingly. "I was sad that you didn't wanna come commit suicide with me that one time."

"That's because you were being stupid with your whole cult thing. I wasn't ganna let you be an idiot. Then who be in my life that I could call a skinny-ass Jewish loser?" Stan asked sweetly, smiling up at Kyle.

Kyle smiled sweetly back. "I'm glad you did, cause if you hadn't I wouldn't be owning your ass right now." Kyle rubbed his nose against Stan's childishly. "I have a question. . . Why am I instigating everything?"

"Cause you're a queer freak." Stan muttered, kissing Kyle. "That's your job." He mumbled against Kyle's lips. He bit down on his lower lip, trying to persuade Kyle into opening his mouth.

"Mmm, true, true." Kyle managed before the other tried to dominate. With a happy, somewhat playful, thrust he caught Stan off-guard and pushed his tongue into the others mouth. There, he proceeded to explore the whole cavity, without allowing the other to do the same, because, whenever Stan tried, Kyle would just thrust again and, thusly, dominate once again. Dirty trick or not, Kyle got what he wanted.

"Cheater." Stan muttered, arching up, playfully scowling. "You're not playing fair!" Stan whined childishly, holding Kyle off by placing the heel of his hand against his forehead. He deftly ran his left hand around the exposed chest before him, fingers tweaking nipples, lightly brushing over the redhead's abdomen. Stan pulled Kyle's head back down after a while and started nipping, ever-so-gently, on Kyle's neck. "Play nice, dude, play nice. It's not fair until everybody gets a turn." He bit down suddenly and licked at the bruised spot.

With an praising moan, Kyle grabbed Stan's offending hands and pinned them above his head. "Fair? Nnn, I don't play fair." Shifting down, Kyle caught Stan's mouth. "You're such a fag." He murmured smiling against the other's lips.

"Whatever, dude." Stan muttered, kissing Kyle, trying to push his tongue past the other boy's lips. He briefly struggled with his hands and growled a bit, tugging at his hands. "You could try to be fair for once Jewtard." Stan muttered, groaning as Kyle rolled his eyes and thrust against Stan.

"Mmm, no. But, we are talking ENTIRELY too much. Sooo," Kyle purred, pushed Stan's hands harder into the carpet. "Let's play a game of 'Who Can Get the Other to Shut the Fuck Up First.'" Grinding his hips against Stan's he said. "First to be speechless bottoms."

"F-fine." Stan muttered, applying his own pressure. "Whatever, bitch." He tugged his hands free and pulled Kyle's face down, kissing along his jaw line, biting his neck fiercely. He kept a hold of Kyle's face, except to swat away Kyle's hands when they came to recapture his.

Kyle grinned and titled his head back to let the teen have his fun. "You know, to win, you have to keep talking." His eyes closed when an apologetic tongue licked at the abused spot. "And with your mouth busy, how are you ever going to win?"

"I can still talk." Stan snapped, his words muffled by Kyle's neck. He pulled away. "Besides, when I talk along your neck," Stan dropped his head back down, "it makes you squirm." It was true. As Stan muttered and mumbled along Kyle's neck he squirmed, allowing Stan more access to his neck. "Jewish bitch." Stan bit down on the same spot again, bruising, but not breaking skin. He flicked his tongue out and licked at the spot again. "Happy?"

"Mmmmhmmm." Kyle smiled and, while Stan was basking in what he thought was victory, Grabbed said-basking teens hands and pinned them again." Very happy, indeed." He leaned down and kissed the side of Stan's nose. "Because you think I'll let you win." He kissed lower next to Stan's mouth. "But you're just a delusional little cracker." Nipping Stan's bottom lip he pulled it into his mouth and worried it with teeth while mumbling. "Crackers are lame."

"Uhhn." Was Stan's oh-so-intelligent reply. Then he winced slightly. "Your boxers are itchy." He muttered, pulling away from Kyle. "Gimme back my hands. Wait a sec, YOU'RE a cracker too. You're whiter than I am, loser!" Stan tugged at his hands and lightly scratched at Kyle's hands, which were keeping his captive. "And you haven't said much at this point. . . . Queer."

Kyle lightly kissed Stan's cheek. "Dearie me. Not everyone can afford those fucking silk fuckers." Tightening his hold on Stan's wrists, he pressed his hips against Stan roughly. "And it doesn't matter that I'm whiter cause I'm Jewish." Kyle laughed softly, bending his head lower, so his tongue could dart out and lick a pierced ear. "Jewels." Bucking forward again, Kyle took the fake diamond between his teeth and tugged on it. "And you call me queer." Kyle managed to say without letting go of said-earring.

Stan winced and then groaned. "Stop messing with the earring. It's not queer like your belly-button ring that you got when we were ten. It lasted what? Two, maybe three days before you took it out?" He laughed a bit. "Whatever. Besides, my boxers aren't silk. . . are they?" Stan glanced down, trying to see his boxers, but all he could see were Kyle's green ones. "Chicks dig the earring. At least, some do. I guess. Shut up dude." Stan snapped when he saw the haughty look on Kyle's face. "Just because you're Jewish doesn't mean that you can get away with everything, dumbass."

Kyle paused and though for moment. "Hey, I still have that ring." He, also, glanced down. "I wonder if I could put it back in. . ." Looking back up at Stan, Kyle smirked. "Yeah, chicks dig guys who are queer. Guys, that don't dig chicks. That, don't dig guys like me." Maneuvering so both of Stan's hands were in one of his, he slid it down and fingered the blue fabric. "It feels like it is. But, then again, I'm used to cotton." Kyle clicked his tongue when the other tried to pull his hands free again, and pinned them harder. "Keep that up and you'll have bruises. . . but I'd prefer for the bruises to be on your thighs. . . ."

Stan rolled his eyes and winced a bit as Kyle pressed down against his hands. "Oi, chicks dig me. I play football, have an earring, and I'm ganna have a car when I turn sixteen. Chicks dig cars." He groaned and pushed up as Kyle fingered his boxers. "Knock that off, asshole." He muttered, tugging at his hands, yet again! "You're ganna be on bottom soon."

"Dude," Kyle's smile faded for a moment. "I already HAVE a car. Why don't chicks dig ME?" He sighed dramatically and dropped his forehead to the floor. "Shit, I'll start wearing my vibrating tongue ring. Chicks'll like that, right?"

Stan snorted and started laughing uncontrollably. "What? Yeah, I guess so, I mean chicks like fags don't they?" He took a few deep breaths and stopped laughing, except for the occasional giggle. "Yeah, you have a car. BUT you don't have a license yet, and, does that old piece of shit actually run, or do you use your feet to power that crap Jeep?"

"Oi!" Leaning back up, Kyle used his free hand to poke Stan's chest indignantly. "Don't insult my car. It fucking kicks!" Pouting lightly he glared. "I should just get up and leave. Maybe go find Kenny." Thoughtfully, Kyle looked towards to front door. "He did tell me that his offer would always be there if needed. . ."

Stan leaned up and bit Kyle's earlobe. "Don't dis my earring if you don't want me to dis your car, man." He released the ear and pulled at his hands again. "Well fine, if you leave then will you at least give me my hands back, dude?"

Kyle glanced down and studied Stan. "Are you denying the consequences that come with the removal of my hat? Cause," A wicked, for Kyle, grin tweaked his lips. "I may just have to _show_ you." He waited until the brunette gave him a rather spectacular unimpressed look before he moved so his legs were between Stan's and, in one jerky motion, sat up, pulling the teen into his lap. "I'm more than willing to." He covered Stan's mouth with his own when it looked like the teen was going to argue, and continued to hold Stan's hands captive, but this time, behind his back. "Seems like you are too." He purred, hand sliding down Stan's stomach, then let a few fingers dip under silky fabric. "Wha'da ya say?"

"Uhm, whatever." Stan moaned, urging Kyle on, waiting for him to continue. "Cocky Jew. Release my hands." He grumbled and squirmed around, Kyle's boxers becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "It itches, Kyle. It itches." Stan whispered into Kyle's ear huskily. He leaned forward and nipped Kyle's bottom lip, invading the other's mouth.

"Deal with it." Kyle whispered back, a short break for air. His hand dipped lower, teasingly brushing at the indents of Stan's hips. "My hands are tied at the moment. . . Wait, that's yours. Sorry my bad." He grinned and attacked Stan's neck, biting harshly at his collarbone before nipping his way around to Stan's hairline. Kissing it softly he muttered. "Did you shower after practice today? Cause you taste salty."

"I washed my hair if that's what you mean. I didn't have time to take a full shower, remember? I had to go do stuff. . . " Stan took a deep breath. "Do you feel inadequate or something? You sure do think that rubbing the fact that you have my hands makes me upset." He groaned deep in his throat as Kyle ignored him and bit at his collarbone again. "Asshole." He muttered deeply as Kyle moved away from his neck.

Kyle 'hmm'ed thoughtfully and nipped at Stan's chin. "The reason I do it is cause it _does_ upset you. I can tell. You tense up a little more every time." Kyle quirked a brow playfully. "It's rather amusing. But," He drawled with a sigh. "If you really want me to leave. . . . I will. I mean," He looked up, trying to hide his smile. "Not all guys sit well, in a couple of ways, with bottoming. Ego thing, I think."

Stan rolled his eyes and leaned down, kissing Kyle and invading his mouth, yet again. "But you're the one pushing the whole 'top' business. Look, dude, I'm not asking but do you feel small in some way?" He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. Stan frowned and furrowed his brows, moving slightly. "You're uncomfortable. Start being comfy, dammit."

"Well, yea. I've mentioned, how many times, that I can't seem to get people to like me. I'm always the kid that you can cheat off of, or the Jew, or the big-brother type." Kyle kissed back half-heartedly. "It's not fun, but, you have people that _like_ you so. . . ugh. . . I feel like a whiney bitch." He groaned and pulled both of his hands to himself, leaned back and pouted. "I'm just ganna shut the fuck up now kay? Wait, sorry if I'm not 'comfy' that's partly your fault." He lightly kissed Stan again with a small smile.

"Wait, does that mean I win?" Stan leaned forward, hovering slightly over Kyle. "Bah. People like you. I mean, there's me 'n Kenny, Bebe, and, uh, . . . . some other people too I bet." He kissed Kyle back, leaning over him a bit more. "It's not all my fault. I saw how you were looking at the dude in the black pants." Stan relished in his freedom and placed his hands on Kyle's hips, kneading the skin. "You're not a whiney bitch. But you are a Jew. You just have to get over that."

Kyle rolled his eyes, "I didn't know I was a _Jew_. Thanks for filling me in, dude." Kyle's raised his own hand to place on Stan's hips. "And, dude, one chick likes me. ONE. I like ego boosts too. I don't care if I'm a flamer, it flattering when chicks dig me anyways." Kyle rested his cheeks in the crook of Stan's neck and lightly nipped it. "Urk, no winning for yew. Cause I wasn't speechless, I was just not speaking. . . and see how long it lasted?" with a sigh he stole a quick kiss.

"Oh shut up." Stan retorted. "Well, I don't know. We have like, three girls going to our school. There's bound to be a reason why they don't like you. I mean, Wendy still hates you because of the whole 'plastic surgery' thing. Remember?" He lowered his head and bit at Kyle's neck. "I'm offended that I'm not good enough. Bitch, maybe I should kick you out of my house for insulting me greatly." Stan lowered his hands, tugging at the waistband of Kyle's boxers. "Off with the itchy boxers?"

"You're MORE than enough, and I'm still a little iffy on if I'm dreaming or not, I just need ego boosts occasionally." Kyle titled his head back a bit. "It's nice." His hands caught Stan's and moved them to either side. "How about this, from now on I'll just jack YOUR boxers and wear them. That way you won't have to deal with the uncomfortable-ness of it all, kay dude?" With a snort he muttered. "Like you could ever kick me out."

"Hmph." Stan muttered. "Stop messing with my hands. Fine, but what would I wear? Your's are too itchy." He moved his hands back to where they originally were. "Off." He pulled the boxers down about three millimeters. "You're dreaming about what? Being a fairy?" Stan bit at Kyle's neck. "Because, I can assure you that you are definitely an F-A-G."

"NO," Kyle started, again pushing Stan's hands away. "I would be dreaming that Stan really wants to take off my boxers. And honestly, that's just odd." Kyle poked Stan in the forehead. "Are you a real fag or not?"

"I'M NOT GAY!" Stan snapped, sitting up. "You're the odd one. You keep going on about fucking me, but who still has his boxers on, dude?" He pushed Kyle's hand away from his forehead. "Pussy, girly bitch."

"Says the boy trying to pull my clothes off." Kyle sighed, again, and smiled. "Fine, you want me to take them off? First I want to hear you say, just for my ego's sake, that you will _willingly_ get boned. Cause it sounds funny."

"Fuck you."

"Isn't it the other way around?"

"You wish, dumbass." Stan snapped, tugging at Kyle's boxers.

After batting Stan's hands away Kyle slid his own down the small of Stan's back. "Seem familiar?" He whispered huskily. "'Take off your pants.' Er, boxers."

Stan groaned. "Not saying it. You can molest me all you want, but I won't say it, queer." He reached behind himself, and grabbed Kyle's hands. He leaned forward and whispered in Kyle's ear, "Bad Kyle. Very, very bad Kyle."

"Dirty talk? Hmm, I still say you should say it. I'd stop bemoaning about girls." Kyle grinned against Stan's neck and nipped, lips following after as he murmured. "You look all sexy right now. Fighting for your manly pride, whilst straddling my lap and trying to strip me. Mmm, sexy." He bit harder, barely breaking skin. "Oops." He apologetically licked at the couple drops of blood.

Stan flinched and moaned. "STFU. Why do you bemoan girls when you could probably get half of the male population of the school to fuck you?" He bit down softly on his tongue. "I have great manly pride. I don't need to fight for it!"

Chuckling, Kyle nipped at the wound lightly. "Then why ARE you? OH, note on the guy thing. That may be true but. . . . A change in the scenery would be nice." Kyle thought for a moment before continuing. "Not that I mind all the hot guys flocking around it's just. . . . I dun know. . . Stuff. Hrm. . . I'd like to fuck YOU up." Kyle smiled idiotically up at Stan and then, like he had before this night, rubbed their noses together affectionately.

Stan smiled and rubbed also. "You're still a girl-queer-Jew-type-thing."

As Kyle went to retort, Stan's front door burst open.

"Hey-OH, guys! I heard your 'rents an' sis are gone and Kyle's over so I. ." A blond paused halfway through the door. "Am I interup- WAIT! Yew let HIM take off your hat but not ME?" With a dramatic sigh the blond entered the house and shut the door. "For shame. And I didn't think you were THAT queer, Stan."

"I'M NOT GAY KENNY!"

With a, slightly, peeved growl, Kyle covered Stan's mouth, once again, and glared in Kenny's direction.

"Ooo, can I watch?" Kenny bounced up and down a bit. "It'll be fun to see Stan bottom."

Kyle waiting until indignant muffled cries stopped on Stan's part before pulling away and, while hugging the teen to his chest, said to Kenny. "Out, now. Please. Unless you have chocolate sauce of course."

"What? Choc- Oh, no! I do NOT think SO!" Stan struggled to get up, trying to get away from Kyle.

Kenny smiled happily. "OH! So you DO remember my deal." With a happy giggle, Kenny pulled the bag on his back to his front and rifled through it. "I do!"

Kyle tightened his hold slightly. "Very well. Kenny, help please."

Stan's eyes widened. "Oh, FUCK no!" He struggled against Kyle and only managed to fall backwards off of Kyle's lap. But, alas, to Stan's 'disappointment' Kyle followed.

Kyle looked at the wiggling struggling teen beneath him. "Hmm, you just made my job easier." He looked back up at Kenny. "Soooo, chocolate sauce is a go, yesss?"

Throwing up his hands, Kenny did a little dance. "Thank you Satan for helping me sneak out!"

Stan blinked. "Kenny, did you die again? So far you've stayed away from knives, bullets, and your pointer fingers. What did you do now?"

"Stick through the head!" Kenny replied happily. "So, what shall I do with this sauce?"

Kyle tapped his chin. "Ah! I know." Grinning down at Stan sweetly, he, somehow, managed to flip the teen over. He moved back to he was sitting on Stan's shins and motioned for Kenny to 'come hither'.

Eyes shifting madly, Stan felt himself start to panic. "What the hell are you two ganna DO?" He tried to squirm out from under Kyle. "Kenny, dude, c'mon. Help me out here!"

Kenny gave a sympathetic smile. "Can't dude. I've done this with Kyle before and he PWNS at it." He handed over the brown bottle to the red-head and sat down. "I want to join dammit!"

"Any last words?" Kyle asked taking the cap off of said-bottle.

Stan squeaked.

"Very well," Kyle muttered, turned back to Kenny. "Go get a bowl, dude?"

Kenny bounced up and did as he was asked. Practically prancing to the kitchen and back. He set the bowl down next to Stan and saluted. "Anything else ma'am?"

Stan squeaked again.

"No, stand down soldier." Kyle chuckled and tipped the bottle up, pouring the liquid into the bowl. "Okay," He started, recapping the bottle. "The rules are simple. The more words you guess right, the better your. . . position will become. The less, well, the better OUR position will be. Got it?"

Stan nodded against the carpet.

Kenny clapped happily and sat back down.

"Okay, I'm going to, using this chocolate, write letters onto your back, and when each letter is finished I will lick it off. When you think you know it you say so." Dipping his fingers into the sticky substance. "Here we go." He slid one finger the length of Stan's then lifted and made three short lines at the top middle and bottom of his back.

Stan flushed and almost said the first word that came to mind. "Eh- no, I?"

"Wrong," Kyle said in a sing-song and turned to Kenny. "May I have the first honors?"

Kenny waved a hand grandly. "Yes, of course. Cause, actually, I should go. My parents still think I'm dead. . . So, bye fags!" Giggling, Kenny leaned over and kissed Kyle's cheek, then, dropping to the floor, he licked Stan. "Have fun."

Kyle smiled at the kiss and leaned down as the blond left the house. "Mmm, now to clean you off." He, more then willingly, ran his tongue over the sweet lines. "You got the first letter wrong but, you may get the word right." Upon getting no response, Kyle continued 'cleaning'. When he deemed it 'clean enough' he dipped his fingers back into the chocolate and started his next letter. It was simple, just two lines stemming from the same point between Stan's shoulder blades.

". . . A?" Stan asked, feeling extremely non-manly. "I swear if it's not A-"

"Yes, it is." Kyle said, interrupting the teen. "Very good." He grinned as he went upon his 'cleaning' again. A moment later Kyle was writing his third letter. "If you don't get this I'm going to just take you against the wall right now."

"Faggot. I'm going to own you in a moment." Stan snapped, trying to regain what little manly pride he had left.

"Yep, sure." He quickly did a squiggle down Stan's back. "Do you know this one?"

"S, dildo."

"Ooo, original." Kyle, again erased the letter wrote the last one. "Here we go, the end of the word." He drew one diagonal line going from Stan's left shoulder bade to the middle of his back, then another from Stan's right shoulder blade to his waistline. "What's was that word?"

"It's V, but you're writing a fucked up word." Stan grumbled against the carpet.

Kyle chuckled. "Oh poor, poor, Stanly Marsh. You're wrong. Now, for my prize." Quickly, and fluidly, he got to his feet, pulled the other up, and had him pinned against a wall. "The word was," He caught Stan's lips in a demanding kiss. "E." His hand made quick work of Stan's and had them held on either side of his head. "A." Kyle pushed his knee between Stan's thighs. "S." He moved his mouth to Stan's neck and bit harshly at the pervious inflicted wound. "Y." Drawing more blood he licked it happily. "E-A-S-Y. Just like you."

"I am not. You're just a . . . fuck, I don't know. Never mind."

"Mmmhmmm." Kyle bit down again before lightly brushing their lips together. "Will you say it now?" He pressed his knee up hard against the teen's groin.

"Well, if I'm ganna get fucked. I will willingly get boned by Kyle Broflovski." Stan tried to smile defiantly, but failed. Miserably. "Besides, how bad can it be?"

Kyle purred and nuzzled Stan's throat. "Thank you, oh, and it can, and will be, painful." Kissing Stan's neck he wondered allowed. "How badly would you hurt me if I left now? And before you answer that, if I leave now can your offer still stand at school tomorrow? Preferably in the freshman hall?"

"If you leave. . . " Stan muttered, took a deep breath and tried, yes tried, to think clearly. "I will castrate you and get back together with Wendy." He glared at Kyle. "My offer stands only for tonight."

"Oh, lies." Kyle said laughing. "A) You're going to get back with Wendy anyways B) If I get to scar me some other Fish, it's worth it and C) I guess we'll see tomorrow, no?" Engaging in another brief battle for dominance, via tonsil hockey, he stepped away and watched the brunette slowly crumple to the floor. He smirked and turned away, grabbed his hat, and pulled it back on. "See you tomorrow Stanly." Kyle blew a kiss and ran from the house, still only in his boxers.

"YOU ARE SUCH A BITCH KYLE! A GIRLY, GIRLY BITCH!" Stan ran after Kyle, furious. He was across the street, huffing and puffing before he realized that there was snow on the ground, yet again.

Kyle turned and walked backward. "You wanna get fucked that badly? It's my Jewish good charms, isn't it?"

Stan wrapped his arms around himself, trying to get warm. "Yeah, and your boyish good looks." He growled sourly.

"Awww, thanks." Kyle stopped and went towards the shivering teen. "Are you going to freeze to death? It would seem you'd be used to this by now. . . But, I guess it's a cracker thing." He hesitated before wrapping his arms around Stan. "You okay, jock-ie boy?"

"Buck you fuddy." Stan snarled, not bothering to pull away from Kyle. "Stop calling me a cracker, dildo."

Kyle chuckled and pulled the teen up, letting cold, long legs wrap around his waist. "So, hmm, wanna go at it in the snow?"

Stan looked at Kyle like he was an idiot, wrapping his arms around Kyle's neck. "What the fuck do you think, dumbass?"

"Yes?" Kyle purred, nipping at Stan's ear. "Come on, it'll be fun. See there is a house right over there, I think it's Token's, I could prop you against it and have my way with you. . . You could call it rape if you wanna."

"Fine. But it has to be the door. Just because I said so." Stan scowled and tightened his grip around Kyle's neck. "C'mon. I wanna pay that little bastard back." He tugged gently on Kyle's neck.

Kyle pouted but made his way to the door. "During a time like this, all you think about is Wendy. That's not very nice."

"So? You've been a jerk all evening." Stan said, wincing when he touched the door. "Shuddup." He muttered when he Kyle giggling. "It's cold. I'd like to see you comfortably lean up against a cold door."

"I would but then you'd have no support." Kyle giggled again, and pressed Stan harder against the door, making it creak slightly.

"Asshat." Stan mumbled. "You're ganna make the door either break or open, man."

Kyle chuckled. "I hope so. That'd be hilarious." He kissed Stan's neck. "Now, down to business." He kissed Stan harshly, hands kneading the brunette's hips.

Then, the door opened.

"Dear JESUS!" Kyle cried as they fell through the doorway.

"AUGH!" Stan cried as they fell backwards, shutting his eyes quickly. After moment he re-opened one eye and looked at Kyle. "I admit it, bad idea." He opened his other eye and looked around.

"Stanly?" A high-pitched voice spoke from above them.

Kyle hit his head against the wood floor a few times while muttering. "Wendyyyy."

"Wendy?" Stan asked stretching his neck back to look at the brunette girl. "Uh, what're you doing here?" He asked, trying to be cool.

In a vague attempt to get Stan to think straight, Kyle bit down hard on the wounded spot on Stan's neck. But, it only earned him a yelp and the other arching up against him.

"I was about to leave. . . What are _you_ doing here? . . . With. . Kyle. . . . Half-naked?" Wendy squeaked, turning bright red.

"Not much." Stan replied, trying to get Kyle to knock it off, by slapping at his arm.

"Actually, Wendy." Kyle glared down at Stan. "We were ABOUT to have SEX. Now do you MIND?"

"He's lying his ass off Wendy. You know that I'm not gay."

"More like, I'm about to FUCK his ass off, Wendy." Kyle's glare narrowed. "And I swear to god I know where you sleep." Just to prove his point, Kyle slid his hand up Stan's thigh, the one closest to the girl, then back down on the inside side of the blue fabric.

"Oh, God!" Wendy covered her eyes but stayed rooted to her spot.

"Kyle you sick son of a bitch! Lay off man!" Stan shoved at Kyle, trying to push him off. "Stop being an asshole!"

"What the FUCK is wrong with you, man? Just because you fucking EX is here doesn't mean you should act like a FUCKING JACKASS." Kyle snapped.

"Dude, you just got mad." Stan stared at Kyle incredulously. "Wait, never mind. Don't be such a stupid fag, Kyle!"

As the two fought Wendy made her getaway.

Stan's statement had Kyle throwing himself back and off the teen. "Dude, that's not EVEN cool." With that he stood and walked out the house, not noticing that his hat was now resting on Stan's chest.

"What the hell?" Another voice broke in. "Why are you in my living room, half-naked and. . . Are you hard?"

"Fuck you Token." Stan got up and ran outside, holding the hat in his right hand. He glanced after Wendy and then after Kyle, both of which were going different ways. "Kyle?" Stan asked softly.

Kyle's walking faltered slightly but he didn't turn.

"Sor- ry?" He said the last part very softly.

"Don't say anything if you're just going to go after her."

Stan blinked. "Would it shock you if I didn't go after her?"

Kyle stopped walking. "Yes."

"So I need to choose between my best friend and a chick?"

"Whatever Stan. Does it matter anymore?" Kyle started walking again.

"Yes." Stan said very quietly, looking down at his feet. "Kyle?" He asked again, louder this time. "And if it did?"

Kyle simple shook his head and continued walking, though, a little slower.

"What if it did, Kyle? What if it really and truly did?" Stan started to jog towards Kyle. He stopped when he was half-way there. "Do you care if it does?"

"You know I do Stan, but you've always chosen the girl, Stan, always."

"But, I don't . . . want to choose her this time." Stan whispered the end, even though he knew that Kyle wouldn't hear him.

Whether Kyle heard it or not he continued to walk.

". . . . B-but, what about . . . never mind Kyle."

Again, Kyle hesitated for a minute, seeing if the other would say anything else.

Stan swallowed. "Do I have to choose?"

Kyle sighed and started walking. "Yes Stan."

"How am I supposed to choose?"

Kyle turned around. "I don't know, Stan. Just choose"

". . . . . I want you." Stan whispered, just so Kyle could barely hear him. "You." He repeated firmly.

Kyle took a step forward. "You mean it?"

Stan grinned. "Would I lie to you, Kyle?" He looked around. "Can we move? I have frostbitten toes."

Kyle chuckled. "Really now?"

"Yes. I do. They're blue, now let's GO!"

Kyle walked to Stan and picked him up bridal style. "Fine, let's go my lovely, frost-bitten, faggy wife!"

"Ack!" Stan screeched, throwing his arms around Kyle's neck, while still clutching the hat. "I'M NOT A FAG!"

"Yew keep telling your self that."

-----

The next day they scarred many-a Fish.

And became legends

----------

. . . It's. . . Finally. . . OVER. :dances with joy: Though. . . . they never fucked. . . . cause that last two sentences didn't counts. . . yea.

Yep . . . . And this is why I and my Dib should never RP AGAIN.

. . . . . But aren't we ganna do it again in a moment:stares at Shino:

. . . IDK. . .Are we? I still say it's scary that as we RP via Comp we RP out loud whilst talking.

It's called multitasking.

I thought it was called masturbation. . .

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